


RE: the discorporation of our agent on Earth

by MostWeakHamlets



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 19th century shenanigans, Discorporation (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, light-hearted sometimes and not so much other times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23913847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets
Summary: Many causes of death were fairly unique to the 19th century from stairs, alum in bread, Borax in milk, and consumption. Logically, I thought that Aziraphale and Crowley must have incorporated quite a few times from fancy, poison bread and falling down some steps.--His corporation was collected by Duke Hastur and Duke Ligur and will need to be properly restored to functioning order before the demon may return to Earth. The repairs needed are as followed: new lungs, new spine, and healing of a fractured femur and minor concussion that were acquired during delivery. We have also noticed damage to his organs that was not repaired after his last discorporation in 1805.Crowley, in his true form, is now slithering in the vents awaiting further instruction/the repair of his corporation. He again insists on help filling out the necessary paperwork as he finds using a pen hard to use in his current state.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	1. RE: the discorporation of our agent on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really into all the ways people in the 19th century died because they were so interesting. The Victorian's staircases were poorly built, they put arsenic in their wallpaper, and poisoned their food. At first, I thought that I had to make out a list of every way that they died, and then I thought about writing some of those deaths out. 
> 
> Don't worry: these will mostly be light-hearted. There's no terrible angst or grieving in this fic. Just two idiots getting themselves killed.

Memorandum 

TO: Lord Beelzebub

FROM: Dagon, Lord of the Files

EARTH DATE: 19 Nov. 1899

RE: Discorporations of the demon Crowley 

At your request, we have compiled a list of the discoporations of the demon Crowley during his time on Earth in the 19th century. 

  * August 1805: Mass organ shutdown/dehydration 
  * April 1810: Tuberculosis
  * May 1812: Fell down a flight of stairs
  * June 1813: Mass organ shutdown/dehydration 
  * April 1833: Fell down another flight of stairs 
  * June 1833: Fell down the same flight of stairs as he did in April
  * January 1840: Mass organ shutdown (note: he was seen with the angel Aziraphale—possibly poisoned) 
  * February 1872: Cocaine overdose 
  * September 1883: Fell down another flight of stairs (note: using stairs was prohibited after this incident) 
  * April 1896: we never learned what happened. He just appeared and shrugged, and we sent him back up. 
  * November 1898: Arsenic poisoning (note: unintentionally self-inflicted) 



* * *

Memorandum

TO: Archangel Gabriel 

FROM: Archangel Michael

EARTH DATE: 22 Dec 1899

RE: Discorporations of the Principality Aziraphale

A cumulative list of the discorporations of the Aziraphale, Principality and agent of Earth, 19th century AD. 

  * August 1805: failure of corporation due to what we believe was ingestion of alum
  * April 1808: carbon monoxide poisoning
  * June 1813: failure of corporation due to TB complications
  * December 1834: failure of corporation due to ingestion of alum
  * January 1840: failure of corporation due to known unidentified poison. Note: he was seen with the demon Crowley before this discorporation. 
  * May 1856: ingestion of alum. Note: the use of alum in bread has been marked as dangerous by some humans. 
  * August 1863: ingestion of alum. Note: the archangels forbade Aziraphale from consuming any bread with on Earth until humans began a different practice. 
  * November 1878: he ate more damn bread




	2. April 1810

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consumption or Tuberculosis was very common in 19th century England and without treatment or a good understanding of the disease until the 20th century, it was one of the leading causes of death. I included this one because it seemed to make sense and also because it was often caused by milk. 
> 
> To make milk appear "pure" and fresh, boracic acid was added to soured milk. For starters, the chemicals alone could kill young children. But because the sour smell and taste was masked, people were drinking bad, unpasteurized milk that was full of bacteria that caused TB. 
> 
> All Crowley wanted was a glass of milk.

The biggest concern when it came to discorporation was the paperwork. Death didn’t scare Aziraphale or Crowley the way that it did humans. It could be because they couldn’t truly die—it would take an enormous feat to destroy a supernatural entity—or because they knew that if they had to leave their corporation, they would simply end up in Heaven or Hell.

Humans had neither of those advantages. They could be permanently removed from Earth from something as simple as a cold or as gruesome as a carriage accident. They lived in fear of what came next or if anything was to come at all. 

The only matter that Aziraphale and Crowley could agree with humans on was pain. There was a nasty incident in 300 B.C that led to Aziraphale laying in a very generous neighbor’s bed as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He finally woke up in Heaven where he began the loathsome paperwork process with the tingling of a head injury lingering. They were as susceptible to pain as humans were and had few ways of easing it. Aziraphale’s healing miracles were to only be used on humans (he couldn’t imagine the scandal he would cause in Heaven if they learned he miracled a demon well), and Crowley wasn’t from the “easing suffering” variation of their stock. 

That was why, in 1810, Aziraphale replaced cool compresses and pressed a bloody handkerchief to Crowley’s mouth by hand. Humans had yet to learn of any ways to treat consumption besides rest and fresh air. Aziraphale had tried helping Crowley through both until his stick-thin legs no longer supported him. 

He looked like a skeleton. Already thin, he completely lost all traces of fat and muscle only a few months after he admitted that he felt unwell. His cheeks and eyes were sunken, and his bony fingers danced restlessly on the duvet as Aziraphale read to him. 

Crowley mostly slept. When he didn’t, Aziraphale preferred to seat him in a wicker chair by the open window. There he would sit, attempting a conversation, until he fell back asleep and Aziraphale carried him back to his bed. 

“Would you mercy kill me?” Crowley asked one day. 

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s damp hair back from his forehead and laughed. “Of course not, old boy. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Please?”

Aziraphale blinked. So, it was a request. He dabbed Crowley’s grey face with a damp flannel and smiled. Crowley blinked up at him with his full-yellow, glassy eyes. 

“You wouldn’t want me to smite you,” Aziraphale said. “It’d be much more painful than succumbing to this. Besides, what would your higher-ups say about you being discorporated by your foe?” 

“You don’t have to smite me. Just put a pillow over my head.” 

“That’s quite enough of that, I think.”

“You could get morphine.”

Aziraphale laid the flannel back into the bowl of room-temperature water he had placed on the nightstand. He didn’t want to look back at Crowley or his thin, dry hair or sad eyes. 

“Can I get you anything before you fall asleep?” he asked. 

“No.” 

Aziraphale nodded. He fixed the blankets around Crowley and tucked them tight around his legs, draping an extra quilt over his feet which he knew grew cold every night. The blankets were loose around Crowley’s chest as he coughed up more bloody phlegm. 

“Can you stay with me?” 

Aziraphale dabbed the flecks of blood from Crowley’s dry, cracked lips. “Of course I will. Would you like me to read something to you?” 

Crowley nodded and closed his eyes. Aziraphale grabbed his book from the nightstand and began reading. Keeping a steady voice, he read through the night until the candles became short stumps of wax. 

Thankfully, Crowley slept peacefully. He would occasionally cough but never hard enough to disturb his rest. There may have been a touch of angelic influence, but no one needed to know. Crowley slept well even if he did look a bit lonely in his unnecessarily large bed. 

Once he finished reading, Aziraphale decided to join him. He stretched out with his head on the same pillow, put one hand on Crowley’s chest, and kissed a feverish temple. Crowley didn’t move, and Aziraphale fell asleep. 

The next morning, Crowley was cold. Aziraphale held his corporation for an hour, not shedding a single tear. He listened to the birds that dared to sing outside the window and closed his eyes against the sun that was covering the bed with its warm beams. He didn’t grieve, but he couldn’t help but feel a touch mournful if only for the sudden loss of company. 

He rose when his back began to tighten and his neck stiffen. The birds continued to sing. 

It would be at most a year before Aziraphale would see Crowley again and at least a month. Hell was picky about their paperwork and often made it Hell for Crowley specifically. 

Aziraphale removed all traces of himself and everything holy from the apartment. He smoothed the bedsheets and fixed Crowley’s hair (tangles would be the last thing Crowley would want to deal with when he returned) and scrubbed a few dishes just to occupy his time. Looking back at the white not-really corpse, Aziraphale turned off the gas and walked back to his bookshop where there was refreshing silence. He sat down with a stack of new books and a cup of tea and read for four weeks. 

* * *

_ Memorandum  _

_ TO: Lord Beelzebub  _

_ FROM: Corporation Maintenance _

_ EARTH DATE: 12 April 1810 _

_ RE: the discorporation of our agent on Earth, Crowley _

_ The demon Crowley succumbed to the disease known on Earth as “consumption” or “tuberculosis.”  _

_ His corporation was collected by Duke Hastur and Duke Ligur and will need to be properly restored to functioning order before the demon may return to Earth. The repairs needed are as followed: new lungs, new spine, and healing of a fractured femur and minor concussion that were acquired during delivery. We have also noticed damage to his organs that was not repaired after his last discorporation in 1805.  _

_ Crowley, in his true form, is now slithering in the vents awaiting further instruction/the repair of his corporation. He again insists on help filling out the necessary paperwork as he finds using a pen hard to use in his current state. _


End file.
